


Fleeting Moments

by Danyu



Category: Fruits Basket, Fruits Basket - Takaya Natsuki (Manga)
Genre: Drabble Collection, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-24
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 22:23:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 45
Words: 15,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4410029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danyu/pseuds/Danyu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you are born a Sohma, happiness only comes in fleeting moments. A collection of 45 HaruxRin drabbles</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. New Years I

The first time he saw her dance was like a dream.

In the ceremonial dance to welcome in the New Year, the Year of the Horse, he watched as she moved gracefully, fluidly, like a mythical dryad dancing to the celestial tune of the heavens.

Ayame was her partner, but his attention was locked solely on the breathtaking woman dancing before him, the brillant fabrics of her ceremonial robes whirling around her in a frenzy of startling color. Her long black hair danced with her, wrapping around her lithe body in a curtain of ebony and raven. The bells around her ankles sang as her feet moved, ringing with her name again and again- _rin-rin-rin._

He watched her dance, and he could imagine that she was his, dancing only for him.

He watched her dance, and she was beautiful.


	2. Rain

Rin Sohma had always liked the rain. Contrary to what others would always say about rainy days, words they would use to describe it- bleak, monotonous, gray, dreary- she had always enjoyed the rainy days.

She enjoyed the coolness the rain brought, the wet, rich smell of earth that always lingered after a spring shower, but most of all, she loved to listen to the sound it made, the rhythmic pounding of the droplets against the roof.

The rain was one of the only ideals she allowed herself to indulge in, simply because she was such a firm believer in the rain as a life-giving force. She liked the way the rain revitalized the life of nature around them, the grass, the flowers, the trees. She imagined the rain had the ability to wash away everything that was wrong or terrible in the world and leave the people fresh and clean and new. It was a childish belief, she knew, but she wished for it anyway.

Warm arm slipped around her waist, so easily she was made bitterly aware of just how thin she was, and slender fingers combed through her short hair, another strange sensation.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked her softly, "You'll make yourself sick again."

The grave undertones of worry in his voice caused her to smile, reaching up for his hand, their fingers tightly entwining as she lightly kissed his knuckles. "Just a little longer, please? I want to watch the rain a little more."

Haru pulled her tighter against him, warming her chilled flesh with the heat of his body, and she allowed herself to imagine that things were different, that they were free and not hiding from Akito's wrath and waiting for her to recover.

The sound of the rain echoed against the tin roofing of the porch extending from Kazuma's home, and just for a few moments, she was perfectly safe in Haru's arms, and the rest of the world never had to exist.


	3. Reassurance

Three days had passed since she had first been brought to Kazuma's home, two days since she had regained consciousness and one day since he had been able to see her. Vaguely conscious of the brief conversation he held with Kunimitsu as he quietly thanked the other man and ascended the stairs toward the bedroom, dimly aware of the late hour, presented in the silence and darkness enveloping the house, Haru's mind was centered on one thing, the feel of Rin's limp and thin body in his arms, the remembrance of current and past injuries his hands had passed over, the memory of her tired and pained eyes as they stared back at him.

The need to see her alive, whole, and recovering pulsed through him so intensely it blinded him to everything else around him, only the intensity of his focus making him capable of staying on his feet as he opened the door, stepping into the dimly lit bedroom.

She was lying on the bed as he entered, soundlessly closing the door behind him. Body curled in a crescent-shape beneath the sheets, the remainder of her dark hair fanned out against the cream-colored pillow, she seemed alright at first sight. As he stepped closer, he was able to make out the steady rise and fall of her chest, her skin pale but not the ghost-white that haunted his memory.

She opened her eyes as he drew closer, her dark eyes focusing on him as she smiled. "Haru." And that was it, a simple smile, a whisper of his name, but it was enough to reassure. The harsh bite of relief swept over him, bombarding him, guilting him for his fears.

But as he crawled into the bed beside her, and wrapped her in his embrace, felt her alive and breathing in his arms, he thanked the heavens above and whatever god would listen for that simple reassurance.


	4. Ribbon

Haru was nervous, and uncertain. It was a combination that never sat well with him.

Even with his own unique brand of logic, he knew that there was no reason for him to be jittery or unnerved; especially considering it was Rin he was dealing with. Rin, who had been his close friend for several years now, the one who had been his playmate, the one who knew all his deepest, darkest secrets…the same girl who had walked in on him naked as the day he was born just a year ago, studied him quite calmly without embarassment, despite the tomato-red flush to his own face, and told him he had a few more years to go. This was Rin. He had absolutely nothing left to hide.

So why was he so nervous? He supposed it was because he was a twelve-year-old boy, and his best friend just happened to be a very attractive young woman of fourteen. At the sudden reminder of his dilemma, Haru squirmed uncomfortably in his chair.

The object of his contemplations lay on his bed, stretched out on her stomach with her back to him, thumbing idly through a magazine, singing softly along with the low-sounding music coming from the stereo nearby. His eyes locked on her long black hair, plaiting into a long braid running down her back, a rarity for her but an advantage for him.

He inched forward, using as much stealth as he could muster, quickly pulling the object causing him so much agony from his pocket, tied it loosely around the end of her braid, and sprang backward.

Turning her head to see him abruptly pulled back and fall clumsily into his chair, Rin regarded him with a dumbfounded expression while he refused to meet her eyes, his face ablaze. "Haru, wha-"

"F-for White Day. For those chocolates you gave me."

A simple navy-blue ribbon looped so delicately around her hair, the thing that had caused him so much agony and worry, unsure of how she would react or if she would like it. She fingered the silken fabric lightly, and turned to smile at him. "Thank you, Haru. It's very pretty." The words were spoken quietly, shyly, but the warmth of her smile spoke volumes.

Haru could only stare, managing a weak smile of his own, blissfully unaware for a few more years of just how hard he had fallen for the girl with the beautiful smile and quiet words of thanks.


	5. Need

Need: _n._ an obligation, a requirement, a want.

An old repetition from a school assignment ran uselessly through her head. Words, just useless words. Anyone who really knew what true need was would never define it so casually, so dismissively. To really feel need, the raw, pulsing sensation inside, ripping, warring, almost painful in its intensity. Real need was not something that could be put into words or phrases, not that overwhelming rush of want and desire that flooded the body and the senses, heightening the nerves like wildfire to envelop one's being in the overbearing heat.

That was need. Raw, primal, wanting, painful…real need, lusting, insatiable, wanting what cannot be had.

His touch, his kiss, the feel of his body and his arms around her, his fingers in her hair…it all combined into a tempest that could not be resisted, tempting her, overwhelming her, soothing away the loneliness and rekindling the spark of desire. She whimpered softly, wanting to resist so badly, needing to get away, but this was Haru…sweet, loving Haru…his kiss, his body, his touches, and there was no resistance as she slid against him, the desperate pulsing of need in her body overwhelming every other rationality or sense of reason.

Breathless and boneless, she slid placidly into his embrace, savoring the warmth and remembered scent of him, listening quietly to the words he spoke so softly into her ears. His words brought back a whisper of memory, a flicker, a recollection, and she came back into herself, tearing out of his arms.

As she slapped him, she squeezed her eyes shut, stifling the horror she felt at the idea of striking him, not wanting to see his hurt, not wanting to face her own.

She ran from him.

Need, lusting, painful, wanting…wanting what cannot be had.


	6. Angel Kisses

It had snowed that day, the first snow of the season, and Rin had been in one of her rare moments of excitement. Haru would remember clearly just how bright her eyes were, how pretty her face with the excited animation of an anticipation smile.

He remembered the two of them being caught and scolded by Kagura's mother just before they ran out together through the front door, made to dress in coat and hats and gloves before going out into the snowfall. Rin had been jittery, agitatedly impatient as she waited for him to finish the buttons on his coat, grabbing his hand and tugging him along behind her as they raced out the door.

The snow had covered the ground in a sea of pure, breathtaking white. He had watched Rin dancing under the slow fall of fat snowflakes, her dark hair whirling around her, and he was struck speechless by the sight. He had watched the glow of excitement she held, the enraptured expression, the pure joy softening her eyes, and he was awed. He saw an angel dancing beneath the snow falling from the heavens.

She had tugged at his hand, pulling him with her into the strange, spinning dance. It had been a strange feeling, a feeling of freedom, a sensation of flying as he whirled around with his arms around her, elation filling him.

He did not remember who had lost their balance, but they were so tightly wrapped around one another that gravity took its toll, sent them both plummeting toward the ground. He had managed to cushion her fall, landing on his back with a distinct plopping sound, Rin landing hard against his chest a second later.

Steadying her hands against his shoulders, she had leaned up, paused, and stared down at him with an unreadable expression. He remembers to this day the very profound feeling of her body against his with blatant clarity, and he recalls the sudden tightening in his chest, the painful catch to his breath.

As she studied him, whether she was conscious of it or not, she had begun to lean forward, and suddenly all of his senses were overwhelmed, by large dark eyes, by the rosy blush painting her cheeks, by the warm breath mingling in the cold air between them.

She had come so close, her dark lashes brushed against his skin with a feather-light touch, a butterfly kiss, and then her lips had softly brushed against his, an angel's kiss.

The fragile moment was shattered a moment later, as a shout came from the house, Kagura calling them in for lunch at her mother's request, and Rin had sprang away from him, looking terrified, and raced back toward the house.

He remembered lying motionless in the snow, long after his body went numb, his mind racing, staring unseeing at the skies above and left wondering.

He had been fourteen. To this day, he still longs for the fall of snow, and another of an angel's kisses.


	7. New Years II

The first time she saw him dance at New Year's, they were both very young. She remembered that he had partnered with the nezumi, Yuki, and Haru had been elated by that fact. But the other boy had seemed so small, so fragile, next to Haru. For his own part, the elaborateness of the ceremonial robes had seemed comically out of character for Haru, too large for him, and it gave her the impression of a small child playing dress-up with an older sibling's clothing. He had looked so painfully young.

That season, Yuki had been subject to terrible illnesses all winter long, working Hatori ragged as he treated both him and Akito, and it had been the young god's whining insistence that caused the doctor to reluctantly agree to letting Yuki participate in the celebration. The gray-haired boy had been a mess; far too thin to be healthy, pale and sweating, his body trembling from the effort it took to keep up with the dance. Through the entire ritual, Haru continuously cast worried eyes in the other's direction, caught up in concern for his partner's distress, and the distraction had cost him, causing him to lose the beat or miss a step several times during the ceremonial dances.

Akito had been furious, and Rin was sure it was the only time she had seen the other woman come so dangerously close to striking Haru, one of her favored Jyuunishi.

The next time she saw him dance, they were much older, and their entire world had changed so dramatically in a matter of a few years that Rin had to wonder if they were still living the same lives.

Haru was no boy any longer, and the robes fit magnificently to a tall, slender, muscular body. He held about him a profound, masculine presence that was entirely his own, and Rin felt a brief flash of jealousy as she knew she was not the only female present that was affected.

Yuki partnered with him, as transformed as Haru himself, a beautiful, confident young man whose flowing, fluid motion synchronized perfectly with Haru, silent strength and grace moving in time with the steady beating of the drums, the singing rhythm of the chimes.

When the dance was finished, both men bowed before the clan head, and before the music could even stop playing, Haru appeared in front of her, locked a strong arm around her waist, and whirled her out onto the clearing used for the dance.

His smile was warm, his eyes were bright, and his step sure and nimble, and his arm steady around her, as they moved together through the familiar moves of the dance, fluidly, as one.

Rin caught sight of the young girl who ruled the clan, Akito's successor, sitting comfortably in her father's lap, laughing happily and clapping her hands in time with the music.

Rin looked up into the face of her lover and husband, saw his smile, the softness of his eyes and the familiar face, and she kissed him, running her hands wryly through his hair as he lifted her effortlessly, weightlessly into his arms, twirling her as if she was a small child.

She thought of the Jyuunishi, the freedom and their happiness, their loves and their families. She thought of the children busy at the drums, the chimes, dancing with their elders, her own son and daughter among them.

She looked up at the stars shining in the skies above them, and in Haru's arms, she danced.


	8. Stealing Her Light

She had felt it from the very moment they met, when they were small children. When they were together, she never saw the violence and temper the family whispered about, the tantrums his parents had enrolled him in Kazuma-san's dojo in hopes of controlling.

They played together, and she thought him adorable with his naïve innocence and unique logic. He would tell her stories and jokes just to hear her laughter, and the soft little smile he gave her made the entire world seem brighter. When she fell and skinned a knee or bumped an elbow, he was there to soothe away the hurt with a soft touch and gentle reassurances.

After her perfect world collapsed, and she in turn collapsed from the stress her tiny body was put under in the terrible wake of her parents' abuse, Haru was there by her side. He placed a gentle hand against her back to support her body and a cool touch against her fevered forehead, offering soft-spoken words that kept her anchored to consciousness.

Later in the hospital, when her own parents prepared to abandon her, that was the first time she had ever seen his Black side emerge, when an eight-year-old boy had reprimanded two adults without fear, the first defense she had ever heard in her honor, as he demanded they apologize to her. No apology had come, but tears had, as her gratitude toward him had overwhelmed her. She had thanked him, and he became her gentle Haru once more, turning toward her with fathomless, pain-filled eyes brimming with tears of his own.

After she was moved to Kagura's home, she locked herself in solitude, drowning in her own thoughts of sorrow and self-worthlessness, it had been Haru that saved her from the darkness, becoming the one beacon of light meant to guide her back to him. He offered her friendship that would eventually transform into the most genuine, powerful love she had ever known.

Locked away in the cat's prison, weak from lack of food and water, the mess of dark hair left by Akito's scissors scattered around her, Rin saw the loss of so much more than natural illumination as Akito shut the door on her, drowning her in darkness once more.

Akito had stolen her illusion of being able to be with Haru without consequence or fear. Akito had stolen her Haru. Akito had stolen her Light.


	9. Gentle

Haru was gentle by nature.

He had always seemed so strange to her, so strange in his quiet, gentle ways. So gentle toward her, his words and his expressions, the soft looks in his eyes and his friendly touches; later, even as bodies pressed together and entangled in passionate embraces, he was always gentle.

Even after they had separated, her memories of him refused to leave her alone, memories of her gentle former lover taking residence in her mind no matter how hard she tried to drive them away. When he had held her, his body strong and firm against hers, his arms had been unyielding but careful as they wrapped around her, holding her close as if she were a fragile piece of artwork or a precious antique.

His kisses were always so like Haru, slow, thorough, languorous…passionate, but ever so gentle. His touches, like the caress of a feather, light but lingering, slender and warm fingers stroking her skin, along her back, her arms, her stomach, her hips.

She had always feared it would be Haru's gentleness that she would put in danger, that she would taint or warp him in some way that the Haru she had known and loved would only become a fleeting memory in her mind.

The last of her underclothing fell away to join the dress at her feet, and she stood before him, the coolness of the air odd against her naked skin, vulnerable and strangely fearful as his eyes slowly trailed over her bare body, the imprint of their intensity almost tangible against her skin.

And then his own clothing fell away, and his arms encased her, his hands calloused but soft against her body, and in the end, it was always his gentleness that worked to undo her.


	10. Beautiful

He was still a child the first time he thought a girl pretty.

His mind abuzz with memories, he could remember the way she held his hand when they played together, and the warmth it caused in him; the odd ways his stomach knotted when she smiled at him.

Entwining his hand through long, ebony hair, he kissed her, felt the warmth of her body as she pressed into him, creamy pale skin smooth and silken beneath his fingertips as he touched her.

He felt her body pinned beneath him in the highest point of ecstasy, felt her trembling in his arms as they lay together in the aftermath, bodies damp with perspiration and heaving with bated breath. He brushed away the long strands of hair clinging to her face, taking in her flushed but wary face. He kissed her eyes, her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, and finally her lips, whispering fervently how beautiful she was.

She looked away from him, shy, denying, shaking her head to refute him. He only smiled and repeated his admission; kissed her once more, tasted salt against her lips, felt the moisture falling from her eyes falling on his heated skin.

She cried silently as he kissed her, as he made love to her once more, as he called her beautiful again and again.

She clung to him as they rode out the last waves of pleasure that came with climax, sliding down bonelessly together against the tangled sheets, sated and exhausted. She pressed a hand to his face and studied him silently, her eyes tracing over every contour of his face, committing to memory gray eyes so dark with passion they were almost black in the night, sweat-soaked hair falling limply against his forehead, his flushed complexion, and she whispered to him, a soft smile playing at her lips.

"No, Haru. You're the beautiful one. Everything about you."

He opened his mouth to argue, but she quietly shook her head, pressing a finger to his lips to stop his speech. "But thank you, love. No one's ever called me beautiful before."

He teasingly kissed the finger against his mouth, gathering her in his arms and maneuvering them both under the blankets for a good night's rest. He would lie awake that night, staring blankly at the lackluster ceiling, feeling her head nestled against his shoulder, her breath slow and steady as she slept curled up against him.

He made a silent promise to himself, to tell this girl as often he could just how beautiful she was. He had always thought her pretty after all, and nothing could dissuade in his mind just how beautiful she was, inside and out.


	11. Heartbeat

From the time she was a young child, she had always been plagued by nightmares. It was frightening even at seventeen to still be awoken suddenly in the night from the horror of the dream, left disoriented and gasping for breath, smothered by the thick darkness of the night as she tried to calm her body and mind.

When she was older, and Haru began to spend the nights through in her bed, it was always a comfort to find him there beside her. He would wrap his arms around her, holding her close against the solid reassurance of his body, softly kiss her forehead and her temple, stroke her hair and whisper to her, assuring her of his presence, waiting patiently as she finally calmed and sank back against him.

Lullabies, storybooks, and mother's embrace was nothing but a distant, intangible memory, a whisper of recollection chased away by the very real presence of Haru's warmth and love and comfort.

Resting safely in his embrace, she could trace her hands over the contours of his body, knowing every mark and crevice like the pages of a book, every inch of skin maintaining its own story. His heartbeat served as her lullaby, never failing her in its constant, steady rhythm.

Strong and constant as Haru himself, she was lulled into a dreamless sleep by the sound of his heartbeat.


	12. Date

Haru had somewhat of a streak of bad luck when it came to making plans ahead of time. Nothing he did ever went as planned, or ended up ruined or damaged in some way or form. That was mainly the reason why he acted so often on impulse.

And so, he remembered to be very careful as he planned his and Rin's first date outside the Sohma estates, meticulously paying attention to every detail until his plans were foolproof. His parents were out of town for the weekend, and his absence would not be missed. Kagura and her parents were going out for the evening, and as usual, Rin had decided to stay behind. Much of the adults in the main family were attending a dinner at the Honke, and the grounds would be fairly empty, just enough for them to sneak out unnoticed.

Everything seemed perfect. His anticipation, his jumbled nerves, his boyish excitement, all of it was almost unbearable.

The day he planned for his and Rin's first date, it rained.

Rin opened the door to find him on the front stoop, soaked through to the bone despite his heavy leather jacket, his face downcast, looking more miserable as she had ever seen him.

Finding his petulant expression adorable, Rin was given the impression of a drowned puppy, as she shook her head and smiled. Warning him not to drip too much on the floor, she offered him a towel, watching as he stripped off the wet clothing.

"You know, Haru, we might not be able to go into town, but the family is still gone all day..."

She watched as the crestfallen look in his eyes slowly shifted as the realization of a rare day alone finally set in, replaced by a glimmer of mischief that gave her only a second of warning before he suddenly lunged at her. She slipped out of his grasp, and flashed him a teasing smile before racing down the hallway.

As he caught her again, they made their way into the bedroom in a tangle of intertwined limbs and increasingly bare bodies, teasing touches and kisses rained over enticing expanses of skin.

Perhaps the day was not so wasted after all.


	13. Longing

Had he honestly thought he could forget about her?

He had deluded himself, trapping himself in self-consuming lies, longing to appease his mind with such pitiful denial that not even in his groggy, sleep-deprived partial awareness could he ever believe he was capable of forgetting about her.

The girl was like a drug, her very presence intoxicating, an addiction where he could never get enough, where just being with her had been a heady thrill, dangerous and powerful as love and lust came close again and again to overwhelming him.

He laid in bed for another sleepless night, driven to the extremes of frustration by the insomnia, the ache of longing, compounding into a hurt so extreme he could scarcely breathe, wanting so badly to howl his frustration until his throat tore raw and red, until his desperation was so great he could give over to the urge for tears, weak and pitiful in his longing.

Loving her had once made him stronger. Wanting her threatened to break him. 


	14. Touch

Normal people took the sense of touch for granted.

For the Jyuunishi, touch was something they both loved and despised, something they were regularly denied throughout their entire lives.

The touch of a mother.

The touch of a sibling, a friend.

The touch of a lover.

Their only compensation was the constant physical contact insisted upon by Akito whenever a male Jyuunishi was in his presence, a sort of primal possession that chilled Haru to the bone whenever those icy fingers touched his skin, or a sickly thin body leaned against him. Akito's was not the touch he wanted.

In the darkest hours of the night, as he lay restless and exhausted from lack of sleep, it was _her_ touch that haunted him, the very tangible memory of phantom fingers stroking against his skin, tentative caresses along his chest and arms, tracing his biceps and the muscles of his abdomen. Her hands twining through his hair, her hands clenching at his shoulders, raking down his back, teasingly running down his spine.

His body trembled and tightened, the ache so intense and unbearable his breath left him. He felt close to tears, whimpering softly, biting back a pitiful groan as his mind failed to banish away the memories, as his hands reached out and sought her.

They found only empty air.


	15. Smell

There was something unique about the scent of each person, something alluring and irresistible to the one who loves them the most, who wants them close.

She remembered the scent of him when he held her close, a memory that teased the senses nearly as vividly as the recalled feel of his body, his touch, or his warmth.

It had been a clear, rich smell, the lingering traces of his soap and the faint scent of the cologne she had once bought him, very masculine and uniquely Haru.

She remembered the cold nights they would walk together around the perimeter of the Sohma estate, the air around them taking on a more frigid bite than they had expected, and he would wrap his jacket around her shoulders, and the coat would smell like him, wrapping around her in a warmth as comforting as Haru's embrace.

The secret she would take to her grave was tugged away in the very back of her closet, the old leather jacket, a favorite of Haru's, that he had insisted she keep with her when they were still dating.

The fact that she wore the coat on the nightly walks she still took without him was something she would never tell him, nor the fact that it aided her against the cold in the long hours she paused at the same place again and again, a familiar vantage point, hidden among the trees that surrounded his house.

She would never tell.


	16. Hearing

Many of the nights she slept by his side were sleepless ones for Haru. He was not plagued with insomnia, nor haunted by old memories or nightmares. He merely could not bring himself to sleep.

Instead, he chose to focus on her while she rested peacefully in her slumber.

In the nights too dark for him to make out her peaceful face, he would stay awake staring at the ceiling, focused on the soft, steady sound of her breathing.

There were times when she talked in her sleep, silly, nonsense words that caused him to smile, filing them away for future teasing. No time soon, of course, lest she think his midnight habits too odd and try to stop him.

He supposed this habit of his was a little strange, but he would trade nothing in the world for those few, precious stolen moments as he listened to the quiet of the night, the low chirping of the crickets outside his window, as she rested safe and warm and loved in his embrace.


	17. Sight

The world as he knew it began to blur before him, the shapes and forms of familiar objects growing gray and faded and shapeless, the colors blurring and bleeding together, fading away until it was utter black before his eyes, a dark so thick, so infinite, so palpable he knew there was no escaping it.

He remembered screaming, the raw and desperate noise resounding shrill and inhuman through the air, grating against his ears. He thrashed, wildly, desperately, and warm hands reached out to restrain him, a quiet voice softly reassuring, urging him to calm down. His body stilled, going limp, and he found himself being gently pressed downward, until his back met the surface of the bed.

A bed. His fingers reached out cautiously, running over the smooth, cool fabric of the sheets, the worn material of the quilt, left warm by the bodies occupying it only a moment before. A bed. His bed. He knew who ought to be in his bed.

"Rin?" he questioned, reaching out his hand blindly, involuntarily whimpering softly as he only found cold, empty air. "Rin!"

Within a moment, a small, warm hand enveloped his own, the other reaching forward to soothingly brush against his sweaty brow. "Shh, Haru. It's alright. I'm here."

"Rin." Her name was all the sound that would come to him, a grounding reassurance.

"You're fine, love. Everything's fine. You just had a nightmare."

He gripped her hand tightly, concentrating on the feel of her fingers as they entangled with his, stroking familiar form and texture. "Rin…why…why can't I see you?"

A choked sob was his only answer, and he turned his head quizzically in the direction of the sound. Rin never cried anymore. His Rin was too strong for tears.

"Oh, Haru. Think for a moment. Think very carefully, love. It will come back to you."

As if her words were the needed force to break the mental dam barring against his recollection, the memories came flooding back into his mind, faster than he could fully comprehend, far too vivid to be dismissed as pieces of fantasy or dreams.

With a sharp cry of defiance, he raised a hand to his eyes, fingers tracing over the rough, ridged scar running across his eyelids.

He remembered it all in that moment. Akito. The screams of their god. The flashing menace of a knife. His own angry defiance. His and Rin's shared terror. His lover's tears. His own blood. His swimming vision as his sight died away forever. The price he paid for their freedom.

His blindness.


	18. Taste

What is it about the forbidden that makes it so alluring, so irresistible? What is it about the things that one can never have that makes the temptation that much stronger?

Like the sweetest nectar, the precious ambrosia of the gods, forbidden for the taste of mortals, he could never get enough of her. Like the foolish mortal who dares to defy the celestial masters, to taste the forbidden fruit, he is condemned for his indulgence, but he could not give a damn as he embraced her, touched her, caressed her, kissed her, tasted her. Intoxicating, invigorating, irresistible…forbidden.

The sweetest temptation both baited and sated his senses, as the purest of pleasures overtook him, drowning him in sensation. A heady ecstasy he could not deny, soothing away the pain of longing, rekindling an even deeper ache inside.

The taste of the forbidden, of the ambrosia and the fruit, was his for the taking, given to him willingly out of desire, love, forbidden passion. He indulged in everything taboo, and he could never get enough.


	19. Changes

"Is it just me, or have you gotten taller?"

Haru blinked as his attention was taken from his textbook to the girl that had been the origin of the question. From his place on the floor, leaning against the couch, he craned back his head to look at her, observing her sprawled out on the sofa behind him, her dark hair fanned out against the cream-colored cushions, her expression curious.

"Hmm…maybe. I hadn't really noticed."

Rin tilted her head slightly, brushing her hands over the top of his dual-colored hair. "Yeah, I think you've put on a few more inches."

He shrugged. "Maybe I'll catch up to you then."

She frowned, rolling over onto her stomach, her fingers idly tangling in his hair. "That doesn't quite seem fair. I'm older than you are."

"You'd rather I stay smaller than you? I'm supposed to be growing, Rin. I'm a teenage boy."

"Fifteen," she mumbled softly, her head turned toward him, but her eyes not quite meeting his.

"Yeah, I am." He tilted his head upward, drawing closer to her, reaching back with one hand to grasp the one unconsciously stroking his hair, holding her hand in a loose grip. "Would you keep me a child forever?"

Rin stared at him for a moment with unfathomable, unreadable dark eyes, accepting the link between their hands, enlacing her fingers with his. "It might be better that way."

He raised his hand, ghosting his fingers against her face, tracing the curve of her cheek and jaw, downward to her neck, and upward once more to brush back her hair. She accepted the caress with half-lidded eyes, leaning into his touch. "Are you so afraid of seeing me as a man…Rin?"

He leaned closer, so close she could feel the warmth of his breath, his close proximity something floating just beyond her sense of self, his body leaning over her, his hand against her cheek, their fingers entangled, his lips against hers in the lightest of pressures.

When the sudden sound of the front door slamming shut and Haru's mother calling out a greeting, they broke apart, and Rin could not bring herself to look at him as she exchanged a few cordial words with the woman, said a brief goodbye to Haru, and nearly ran from the house.

It wasn't until not long after, the day Haru finally confronted her on their ignored feelings for one another, and finally kissed her for real, for the first time, that she could ever bring herself to accept the changes she had noticed that day.


	20. Stay

He watched her as she slept, as silently as the quiet night around them, as gentle a presence beside her as he had ever maintained. She was beautiful, and she was peaceful in her slumber, and he enjoyed watching the transition, to see her pretty face lose its ever shadowing worry, the constant overcastting fear she could never fully dismiss.

She looked most like a child when she slept, and she was the most delicate he had ever seen her, fragile and small as she curled in around herself, making herself as small as possible, seeking to protect herself even against the phantoms of the dreamscape.

She would whimper softly in her sleep, her face straining with new stress, and he had come to recognize the sounds, her fear, her distress. He reached for her hand, and her fingers curled around his almost painfully, her grip only tightening as her mouth formed a silent scream, and her body violently trembled.

"H-Haru."

He would never know how she felt him there, when they both knew he should not be, but he focused instead on Rin, Rin and her fears, Rin and her need for comfort. He gently wrapped an arm around her, pulling closer from where he sat at the edge of the bed. She instinctually curled closer around him, her head nestling into his lap, her hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt. "Haru…stay."

"I'm here, Rin. I'm not going anywhere."


	21. Moon

She was at her most beautiful under the silvery sheen of the moonlight.

There was just something about those moments, when they walked together through the abandoned park just beyond the Sohma estate, the velvety darkness of the night wrapping around them in the cover they so desperately needed, the full face of the autumn moon filling the skies. They would stroll hand in hand through the place that served as their sanctuary. Here, in the cover of darkness, they could be together without worry, to kiss, to touch, to share embraces and secrets, just to talk or sit together and enjoy the company and the quiet. It was the perfect escape, to leave the rest of the world behind and indulge in nothing but one another.

On those night when the moon rose above in the heavens, and the brilliant light would stream down towards earth, washing over them in its pallid glow, she would raise her head to watch the stars, and the light would catch her visage, leaving her breathtaking. She struck an ethereal figure, a gorgeous celestial goddess, something of inhuman perfection, an otherworldly apparition. She would feel so distantly beautiful then, and his head would ache at that distance. He would be struck with those familiar feelings of longing, the knowledge that she was beyond him, too good for him. That he had too much dark inside him to reach for the perfection of the light.

And then, she would turn her head toward him once more, the cruelly beautiful features warming with her soft smile reserved only for him, and she would tug on his hand to pull him closer, kissing him, wrapping her lithe arms around his body, holding him close. And he was reminded that she was no longer as distant as the heavenly moonlight, that she was warm and passionate and utterly coming alive in his arms. As he was hers, she was his, and that was all that mattered in the end.


	22. Jealousy

With her Sohma heritage, combined with the blood of a Jyuunishi running through her, there had never been any question of her attractiveness. She was beautiful to the human eye, and she knew it, but that was it, just that very simple fact of knowledge. She felt no vanity or satisfaction from that fact, nor did she feel modesty or denial. The fact that she was physically appealing was something that simply was, and she did not question it.

Instead, she resented it, manipulated her looks, saw them more as either a hindrance or just another tool in the long - life-long - games they played in their world as Jyuunishi and god-bound, a game of survival. So, she dressed to accent her beauty, her physical attributes.

The scant clothing, the leathers and the revealing skin, all of it served to remind everyone of what she really was. It was a message to taunt all of male kind, to show them all that she was and all her body had to offer, and then combine it with the knowledge that they could look but never touch. For she was forbidden, one of the twelve, a Jyuunishi, far beyond their reach, just a blatant temptation that both teased and spoiled their eyes if they ever dared to look, and then burned with the sharp pain of disappointment, and the absolute wrong of fantasizing about one of the cursed, a taboo among the Sohma.

It was always a strange fact that she dressed the way she did, teasing and taunting, daring any male to give her more than just a discreet passing glance, when in truth, she hated the lewd, dirty stares, and the whispers that spread among the mothers and old aunts of her "inappropriate" dress and behavior. She hated the idea of anyone daring to touch, even as she tempted them to do the same.

It was shoving the fact in the face of her god that she was lusted after and wanted by males, that she drew even the eyes of the cursed males to look at her instead of Akito. It was open defiance, rebellion, in its crudest and simplest form.

The way she dressed, the way she carried herself, her blatant, obvious rebellion, eventually it all became for Haru's benefit. He who could not look at her with the intimacy of the lover he was in the public eye could still see her just as easily as any other man, and instead of the stares of others she received, it was the quiet appreciation in his eyes as they passed casually in the Honke that she treasured, to watch the subtle kindle of desire awaken in him sent a shiver down her spine. For his eyes only, to feel wanted, to feel loved, to know that she was his and his only, at the end of the day, that it was his embrace she surrendered to, his hands she allowed and his touch she welcomed.

Haru's jealousy was to be expected, as he stood by and watched the stares of other Sohma males, their eyes dirty and lusting as they cast over her, entertaining the lowest of thoughts they could never make reality. When he could do nothing against it without raising suspicion, but later in the dark quiet of their stolen embraces, he could make his knowledge real, express to her his jealousy, his want.

He was possessive, but she did not mind, for she loved the way his jealousy tightened his arms around her and reaffirmed his kisses, the way they both knew that despite any others that interfered in their lives outside each other, it was to each other that they would always return and always belong. Always.


	23. Uniform

"So what do you think?"

Haru considered the question from his lounging position against his bed, hand resting against his chin in deliberation as he studied her, eyes trailing over every inch that she displayed, from the bottoms of her boots to the slim legs accented by the short skirt, all the way up to her impatient expression and the top of her dark head of hair. "Well?"

"Is it just me…or is the skirt shorter?"

She tossed back her long hair, leveling a dark glare in his direction. "If you're going to make fun, I'm going to change. You were the one who asked me to model it for you in the first place. It's not my fault the school changed this stupid thing."

Haru arched an eyebrow as he eyed the uniform. "The changes aren't so bad, I think."

As she moved to storm passed him, he made a grab for her arms and pulled her back toward him, effectively changing her momentum as she landed sprawled across his lap. He locked his arms and legs around her, trapping her in, and his mouth was suddenly at work, dropping a trail of soft kisses along her neck.

"H-Haru…"

"I never said I didn't like it," he rumbled darkly, the dropped octave to his voice sending a pleasant chill down her spine, just as effectively as his continued ministrations as teeth and tongue teasingly grazed over skin, hitting a particularly sensitive spot just below her collarbone that caused her to gasp and tremble against him. "Gods, Haru! Where'd this come from?"

She felt more than saw his lips curl into a smirk, his hands slipping beneath the hem of her skirt, caressing silken skin. He swallowed her startled moan in a sudden kiss.

"Who knows? Maybe it's the skirt."

She twisted in his lap, entwining her arms around his neck, pressing into him, the sudden sensation of her hips against his tearing a strangled groan from deep in his throat.

"Hentai."

He grinned, sliding his hands upward as she made quick work of his shirt buttons, reaching for the buckle to his belt. "Yeah, but you love me that way."

"No denying that."


	24. Hair

There was one particular memory from her childhood that stood out in her mind, a small snippet of innocent interaction that teased the mind's recollection, refused to be dismissed.

They were only children, and she recalled a time they had been playing together, a time before her perfect life at home had crumbled in the wake of a child's curiosity. She had been jumping rope, trying in vain to teach him how, and she had looked up at him with a bright smile, told him how much she liked his soft white hair. He had only regarded her with a blank expression she found utterly adorable and her laughter had followed. A time she could laugh so easily, so lightheartedly, without a care in the world.

He hated his hair for making him different.

They were older now, lovers. She sat balanced across his lap, wanton and impassioned in his arms, naked skin on naked skin, and she would fist her hand through his hair as she kissed him, fiercely, deeply. She told him with a teasing smile that she liked his soft white hair, tugging on the strands entangled through her fingers for emphasis.

He told her he liked hers in return, as he wrapped his hands through her long hair and tilted back her head, returning her previous kiss with accelerating fervor.


	25. Storm

The water was cool against his bare skin, raising goose bumps in the chill made by the autumn rain. Rain fell in torrents, in thick, impenetrable sheets that obscured any vision more than a few inches before his eyes. The skies were an endless puzzle of wild patterns of gray and black and cobalt blue, violently changing as the rain pelted down, lightning crashed in the clouds and thunder rumbled prophetically in the distance.

He closed his eyes and threw back his head, the pelting droplets harsh against vulnerable, naked skin as he stood shirtless in the middle of the storm. Rivulets streamed down his face, plastering his hair against his skull. The tension faded from his body in the wake of the renewing vigor of the storm, as the water washed over him, his anger and pain faded with it. His body finally calmed in the violent aftermath of his Black episode.

So little time had passed since that day he had gone to Rin in the hospital, and with a handful of careless words, had his heart ripped to shreds and shoved back at him. He was haunted by dark eyes that had once looked at him with such love and warmth frozen and distant beyond redemption, the cold ice of hatred freezing them against his silent pleas for forgiveness and understanding.

"HARU! WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING!"

Haru slowly turned his head toward the front door of his home to find his mother standing in the entrance, staring at him in horror and puzzled concern. "Haru! Come inside right now!"

His lips, long turned blue in the cold, slowly curled into a mirthless smile, imagining her shock at finding her son half-naked in the middle of the yard during a rainstorm. What would the neighbors think? What could be wrong with her odd, troubled son now?

He turned back toward the house, and began trudging through the yard quickly deepening in water. His jeans were caked in mud from the knees down, the heavy denim fabric formfitting in their soaked state, completely drenched through. When he finally made his way through the door, his mother surprised him all over again as she threw a towel around his shoulders and another at his head, vigorously drying his hair.

"My Gods, Haru! You could make yourself ill doing things like that."

He blinked at her through the folds of the towel, his face falling into his customary blank expression, feeling mildly surprised that as she led him to the living room, she did not say a word about the mud he was trailing on the clean carpets. Instead, she hovered like a mother hen.

"What am I going to do with you? You're going to march yourself to the shower right now and warm yourself up! You could have caught your death out there! I'll make you some tea when you're done, and then we'll see if I should call Hatori-san. Honestly, Haru! What were you thinking?"

Wordlessly, Haru, unnoticing of the sudden warmth, stared down at his mud-caked feet as she continued to towel him off.

"Mom?"

"Yes, dear?"

"It-It hurts."

The broken, hoarse quality to his voice must have caught her attention, because she paused in her ministrations and looked at him with a worried gaze. "What hurts?"

"My heart."


	26. Snow

Their first Christmas together, it snowed.

It had been the first snow of the season, and like every other winter they had shared together, he could not forget Rin's childish exuberance for snowfall. As the adults at each of their homes left for the night for parties and other celebrations, they were able to spend Christmas night together, bundled up tightly in the blankets Haru had absconded from his mother's linen closet, side by side in their favorite meeting place, an old bench in a park not far from the Sohma grounds.

Even with coats and blankets, it was their shared heat between them that most defeated the frigid temperature of the winter season. She was curled up against him, a feather-light bundled wrapped up in his arms, exhaled puffs of air clouds of white in the cold before them. Their exchanged gifts already tugged away safely in pockets, he leaned back and stared up at the sky just as the first flakes began to fall.

No two snowflakes were entirely alike, each one separate and individual in their own way. He remembers catching them on his tongue as a boy, and he does the same now. She sends an amused glance in his direction and he gave a soft smile in return, fascinated by the way the snowflakes clung to her dark lashes, and melted among her wild tresses of raven-black hair. He reached his hand toward the skies, the skies full of ungraspable treasures, and as his fingers closed around empty air.

He let his hand fall, his smile wistful. When she asked him what was wrong, he shook his head slightly, seeming pensive. "You know, don't you," he said quietly, "That I would give you anything in my power to give, even the world if I could?"

Puzzled, she grasped his hand, lacing her fingers through his. "I don't want the world, Haru."

"I know. But…" He extended a hand toward the sky once more. "There are so many things I want you to have, so many beautiful things that I want to give to you. Like a snowflake. But no matter how I reach more it, or long for it, it just melts away in my hand…"

He turned to her once more, his eyes unreadable in the darkness. "Like freedom…"

"There are so many things we can never touch, Haru, as humans and as Jyuunishi. But all I've ever really wanted was love and warmth…" She gently kissed his knuckles, holding his hand against her cheek. "However a sap I am for admitting it, but I found that with you. You're here, Haru, and you're real and solid. That's all I need."

"If I could give you more…" he trailed off helplessly, leaning into the caress of her stroking fingers as they lightly traced against his face.

She leaned closer, the white cloud of moisture separating them for just a moment before she kissed him gently. "You've already given me the world. You just don't realize it."


	27. Shadow

The shadows of the night chased away their inhibitions and reservations, leaving everything that was so wrong but felt so right, no light to shed upon their sins, leaving nothing but skin and lips and hands…and each other.

The shadows hide him as he hunkers below her window, aiding her to gracefully climb through. Not a word passes between them as she slips her hand into his, and together they take off running into the night's darkness. The wind caused by their swift movement whips passed them, fluttering her skirts, sweeping through their hair. His grip on her hand tightens as they enter the wooded sanctuary, hidden from prying eyes by the cobalt shadows cast by the trees in the glow of the moonlight.

His quiet smile intrigues her as he pulls her to him, kisses her. His lips are soft and his body firm and she wishes for nothing more than for him to never stop.

That kiss ignites something between them, just as it has countless times before, and in the cover of the dark, kisses are exchanged and hands caress and tease. Clothing is clawed at, fumbled with, and torn away, hands cold against hot skin, rough and calloused against everything smooth and inviting, soft and small against his weathered skin and muscle.

His hair is soft and thick between her fingers as they tangle in platinum strands, as she gasps helplessly at cold hands wrapping around her legs, lifting her to him.

Tree bark is harsh against the delicate skin, even as the heels of her feet dig into the small of his, legs around his waist. He brushes away long strands of hair, damp with exertion, black as a raven's wing, presses a kiss to the nape of her neck, touches a spot that makes her gasp and tremble against him, turns her head to kiss her once more.

Soft hitching moans that cannot be suppressed, throaty grunts that emerge involuntarily from his throat. Her hands splayed against his shoulders, raking down his back, linking around his neck, kneading the muscle there.

Shadows hid them as they indulge in the sins of the flesh, of the body, of the heart.


	28. Ghost

The night he had a fever, the only thing he could remember was her face.

The last clear thing he recalled was the last part of his visit to Sensei's house, Honda-san's frantic inquiries about his health as she caught sight of his flushed face, Yuk's cool hand against his forehead, and then his worried frown as he pulled it back, looking up into glazed eyes.

"You're burning up, Haru."

Shigure's offer to call Hatori to drive him home, his own refusal, Kyou's off-hand to not be an idiot and take the damn ride home. Haru declined once more, reassured them that he could make the short distance home, promised to Honda-san that he would get some rest once there, and then he set off.

Ironically, as he never did, he did not count on getting lost.

What a time for his abominably bad sense of direction to rear its ugly head, especially with his perception thrown off so badly by his fever. The snow fell in flurries that night, obscuring his vision, and the heat of his own body became unbearable. His body was heavy as lead, sweat stinging his eyes, his vision swimming, his breath ragged and harshly painful. He stumbled repeatedly, and finally he was unable to rise against to his feet. The ground was cold against his back, and his world went black.

Somewhere, somewhere from far away, at the very edges of his consciousness, he felt the pressure of hands against his body, lifting him upward. A quiet voice, heavily laced with irritation and concern, broke through the feverish fog. "Jesus, Haru. Only you would collapse right outside your front door."

Jerking and pulling, the occasional labored grunt or a muttered oath. His clothing stripped away, bed sheets against his naked skin. Heat, so much heat, unbearable heat. A cool sensation against his forehead, wet and cold, deliciously, wonderfully cold. A hand against his cheek, so soft, small and delicate, soothing away his tension. A hand behind his neck, gently lifting his head, a voice urgently telling him to swallow. Liquid down his throat.

Her face floating in his line of vision, angelically beautiful, her eyes warm in a way he had not seen in a long time, her expression reflecting nothing more than loving worry.

"Rin." He whispered her name.

"Shh, go to sleep, Haru." A cool hand against his forehead once more, the warmth of her lips against his forehead. A kiss. The sound of her voice softly singing to him. If he could have, he would have smiled. How long had it been since he had heard her sing?

He was not sure when he finally drifted off to sleep, but the next time he awoke, his room was cold and empty, and his eyes were blinded by the morning sunlight spilling through the window.

"RIN!"

Seeing her was the only memory still fresh in his mind as he sat up with a start, finding nothing else but his own lone presence.

He blinked, taking in his surrounding. He was naked in his bed, his blankets securely tucked around him. A bowl of water and a rag sat on the bedside table, next to a bottle of what looked to be the fever reducer Hatori had prescribed him last winter.

Had it all just been a dream, a fever dream perhaps? Who had cared for him during his fever?

He shook his head, dispelling the disturbing trail of his thoughts, and he rolled out of bed in hopes of closing the blinds against the blinding rays of sunlight. Just before he let them fall, something caught his eye.

Perhaps she had not been an apparition of his dreams and fantasies after all. Ghosts did not leave footprints in the snow.


	29. Whisper

_"Rin."_

The sound of her name, a soft caress, a whisper in his voice.

_"Rin."_

It had to be a whisper of the wind.

_"Rin…"_

How could he put such strength of emotion in one simple syllable?

_"Rin…"_

A quiet plea.

_"Rin…please."_

So much longing in his voice…

_"Rin!"_

So much anger now…

_"Rin."_

His voice sounds so broken, so full of pain…

_"Rin, answer me, please."_

It's painful, nearly unbearable, to ignore him.

_"Rin…"_

She rolls over in the bed, turning her back to him. "Go away, Haru. I told you I didn't want to see you anymore."

She can still feel his presence. He always was stubborn.

But his silence breaks her heart.


	30. Care

"Why haven't you been eating lately?"

The question caught her off-guard, causing Rin to turn towards him with a quizzical expression. "What are you talking about? I eat plenty."

"I'm not talking about stolen snacks for the fridge at night. I'm talking about real meals."

He reached out to her, but she shoved his hand away, suddenly indignant. "I have no idea what you're talking about. What does it matter to you, anyway?"

His forehead creased with the severity of his frown. No ten-year-old boy should be able to make an expression that stern and chastising. "It matters because I care, Rin. I know you haven't been eating lately, and I want to know why."

Her defenses deflated, and she felt so tired, too tired to fight him, too tired to resist as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, bringer her closer against his side. Instead, she accepted the gesture, leaning her head against his shoulder. "Who told you?"

"Kagura-nee."

"Nosy little witch."

"Rin!"

She flushed self-consciously. "Sorry."

"She says you won't eat with the family. How come?"

She squirmed at his side, hiding her face in the folds of his shirt. "It makes me uncomfortable. I don't know how else to explain it."

He nodded thoughtfully, leaning his head against hers for a moment, his hand comfortingly squeezing her shoulder. And then he released her, holding out a hand to aid her to her feet. "My mom's making oden for lunch. Do you want to join me?"

She placed her hand in his, and smiled for the first time that morning. "Sure."


	31. Warmth

She found herself dragged, though not unwillingly, from the drowsy, floating sensation of light, dozing sleep, grounded back to reality was the barely audible sound of his boots against the wooden floors. He may have been the only person able to approach her without her waking, but his was also the one presence she would always be able to sense.

The room was warm, wonderfully so, closed off against the cold of the storm raging outside. Through the faint glow of the solitary candle in the corner, she watched through hooded eyes as he clicked off his flashlight, muttering under his breath as he tore off muddy boots and wet jacket, revealing his soaked state. Hair plastered against his skull and face, rivulets of water ran from the wet tresses over his skin until they disappeared into the dark clothes clinging like a second skin. As if sensing her eyes on him, he turned his head toward her, lips curling into an easy grin.

"The fuse's blown. We won't have power until tomorrow."

She gave him a lazy smile, reaching back with her arms as she stretched lethargically. The sheets fell to her waist as her back arched, and she watched his eyes darken at the unspoken invitation. "That's fine. We can keep each other warm."

He stripped himself of the remaining clothes, and slipping between the blankets, slipping his arms around her to pull her tightly against him. The touch of his chilled body raised goose bumps against her skin, but she found herself not caring as he kissed her, his mouth lingering in a slow and languorous stirring of passion.

"You're freezing," she complained softly, giving a half-hearted attempt to shove him away as he trailed his lips down to her neck alternating between love bites that elicted shivers and warm caresses that caused her to gasp and shudder against him.

"Like you said," he murmured as he kissed her once more, "We'll keep each other warm." He leaned over her, pressing her back against the mattress, the flickering flame of the sole illumination causing shadows to dance across his bare back, and they lost themselves in each other, the cold long forgotten in that final merging of bodies and hearts.


	32. Black

The Black.

The black was as much a part of him as the dominant White personality, a constantly palpable sensation in the back of his mind, always looming, shadowing over him. The violence of emotion, storm of rage and pain and hurt that never failed to remind of its presence, threatening to overtake him at any given time. From pain, the Black had emerged, and with pain, the Black continued to linger.

His Black had so many triggers, the greatest being anger. His harshest episodes since his early childhood all seemed to be tied to a single correlation, a single connection that strung them together. Rin.

When they were children, and he found her collapsed that afternoon, he ended up unconsciously giving away his heart, and feeling the first stirrings of indignant fury for someone that was not him. Finally, in the hospital, as Rin's parents spouted off their useless nonsense about not knowing how to love her, the cruelty of their biting words, Rin's large, fearful eyes, her uncomprehending confusion, all combined to fuel his anger, causing him to snap in her defense.

For years, it was the very thought of her parents and their abuse that caused him to linger dangerously on the line between black and white, but Rin had always been there to sooth away the heat of anger, reassure him that she was breathing, at peace, and unharmed beside him, or in his arms.

And at the same time, it was Rin herself who could stir the black, the other side of him who knew no inhibitions or boundaries. The same violence of emotion warred through him as he touched her, passion now instead of anger, and it was love dominating over lust that allowed him to temper the black, fading into the sweet gray of a lover as his body joined with hers.

She never feared him. Not once did she ever balk in his changing, or seek to run away from him. Always, always it would be her that could stir him, and soothe him.

The time his world came to a standstill, when she took the heart he had given her long ago and shattered his affections, the Black was slow in coming, but come it did, sweeping him up in the physical violence and temper of its nature. This time, his will made so weak with his heartache, he did not stop it from coming, letting it dominate him until his anger gave out, and he was left with nothing more than the empty ache of loneliness. This time, she would not be there to soothe away the Black.


	33. Fairy Tale

"What's this?"

Rin's attention was stolen away from her homework by the soft-spoken inquiry originating from her boyfriend, who lay sprawled out on the floor beside her bed as he waited for her to finish. The object in question was a slim volume of short stories, elegant and simple in red, faded leather.

She shrugged her shoulders dismissively, turning her eyes back to the complicated mathematical equations before her. "Nothing really. It's just a book of fairy tales."

"Hmm." His interest piqued, he flipped the book open and began thumbing through the pages, lingering here and there at a word or line that caught his eye. "I didn't know you liked this kind of stuff."

"I don't. It's just an assignment for school."

"They're kid's stories right? They seem pretty interesting. I think I would have liked to have heard some when I was a kid."

She glanced at him for a moment, reading the underlying regrets in his voice, and she shrugged once more. "I've read a few. They're nothing special."

"You sure? I thought all girls were completely in love with the ideas of far-off castles and knights in shining armor?"

"I don't like fairy tales. They all have happy endings."

"You don't believe in happy endings?"

"No."

"Didn't you ever dream about finding your prince or whatever?"

She leaned down to his level, so close his vision was full of nothing more than wide dark eyes and soft lips as she kissed him gently. "I already found him."


	34. Possession

Possession. The want to have more, a driving, aching need to be closer than they could ever be, to have more of each other than possible, warring with the parts of them that were owned. Like objects, possessions, the confusion caused by the impulse to possess him sickened her, somehow cheapening the quality of the love they felt for one another. It was the forced bond, the possession their god had over them that tainted the purity of their affection.

Sometimes she felt no better than Akito.

Haru understood. He understood how hard it was to separate the bonds of enslavement and forced adorations from the bonds of friendship and romantic love. But still, the thought that she more than wanted him, that something instinctual and primal inside her thought the only way to fully be his and make him his was possession, turned her stomach.

It was times like that when she clung close to Haru, and wished only to love him purely.


	35. Cooking

It was rare for the two of them to find time for these quiet moments of peace.

Or at least they would be peaceful, if not for the streams of curses and other crude commentary coming from the other side of the room. Haru sat in the kitchen of his family's home, lazily lounging in a chair at the dining table, watching Rin as she moved through the kitchen. He found himself torn between amusement and concern, especially as he listened to her cursing under her breath, shaking his head as he heard an exaggerated sound of the knife scrapping against the cutting board.

"Rin, love, are you having trouble?"

She regarded him over her shoulder, fixing him with a glare that would have caused lesser men to squirm. Fortunately in Haru's case, he had spent over eight years growing used to everything different aspects of her personality, from all her wants and likes to her stormy temperaments. "So nice of you to point out the obvious, Haru!"

Haru leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms across his chest, and grinned unabashedly. "It's why I'm here, love."

"So nice to know your dry wit is still intact."

"Isn't it just?"

She narrowed her eyes, and turned her face away from him. "Sarcasm doesn't suit you."

"And dark looks don't suit you either. I much prefer to see you smiling."

"I might smile more if the stupid vegetables would just cooperate."

Haru smiled and stood, making his way into the kitchen to stand behind her, slipping his arms around her waist, resting his chin against her shoulder. "Would you like some help?"

She leaned back against him, sighing softly. "I never knew this would be so hard…"

"Hmm." He nuzzled her neck. "It's not like you to admit defeat."

"Aaa." She leaned into his ministrations, pulling his mouth down to hers in a gentle kiss, releasing him after a moment of stolen contact. "Why can't I just make something simple like sukiyaki? It's your favorite, isn't it?"

"Hai, but the doctor told you to eat better. Sukiyaki doesn't fit in that category."

"Mother hen."

"Only cause I love you, sweetheart." He stole another kiss. "Will you let me help you then?"

"Hmm-mm. Please."

He stepped closer until he was flush against her back, placing his hands over hers. Though the contact should have been casual, there was something stirring, utterly sensual about the way his skin slid over hers, their fingers entwining. As if the heat of his body so achingly tangible at her back was not distracting enough, his cheek pressed against her hair, each exhaled breath a teasing sensation against sensitive skin. His hand guided hers to slowly chopping the vegetables in neat, clear cuts, stirring the broth simmering on the burner, checking the frying fish. "See?" he said softly, "Not so bad. We make a good team, don't we?"

She nodded, letting her head rest back against his shoulder, raising their joined hands to her lips. "Yeah. We do. Haru?"

"Hmm?"

"Love you too. Even if you are a mother hen."


	36. Dreams

She had always thought that dreams were futile things, fantasies of the hopeless fools who still believed in fairytale endings and childhood delusions. Dreams were nothing but painful longings in the heart of a Jyuunishi. Dreams were intangible, ungraspable illusions one could never touch, never hold on to until the end. Her only dream nowadays were those she dared to indulge with in those few precious, stolen moments she could spend in Haru's arms, abandoning the mortal realm in exchange for the dreamscape those nights she could stay by her lover's side, and dare to dream.

She never had any illusions of those dreams coming true.

But the moment Haru turned the key in the lock, letting the front door swing open to reveal the tastefully decorated apartment, she suddenly believed in dreams coming true. He stepped inside the shadowed room, and held out his hand, guiding her into their first home together.

"Okaeri," he whispered in her ear, and the lines between dreams and reality forever blurred before her eyes.

_Welcome home…_


	37. Black

He stared, unseeing, at the pallid walls of the bathroom around him. He remembered vaguely coming to school that morning, moving through the day on auto-pilot, barely able to stand it as he fidgeted all through the third class, eliciting irritated glances from his peers as his bouncing knee shook their seats or his fingers drummed against his desk a little too loudly.

He just barely recalled asking the sensei for a hall pass, and then stumbling out into the empty hallways, skipping the rest of the day. He remembered locking himself away in a bathroom stall, collapsing onto the tilted floor, unable to hold any longer the strain of his own breaking heart.

His body shook, trembled as he choked back another sob, squeezing his eyes shut against the threat of additional tears, his face wet from past offenders that stung against flushed, heated skin, the taste of them and the salt of his cold sweat bitter against his lips.

It was far too much to handle, this uproarious tumult of anguish keeping such a tight grip around his heart, squeezing tighter and tighter until he could scarcely breathe. He wanted to scream, he wanted to rage, he wanted some form of release from the torment, the god-awful torment of his emotions, but no matter where he tried to run, they always found him again, and to fight was useless.

An image of her fragile, broken form lying in the hospital bed, the blank, dead look in her eyes at odds with the harsh tone of her words as she tore him apart danced before his vision, and he felt like wailing all over again.

_Why…why…why…why, Rin? Why now…why you…why us…why?_

His body shuddered, his legs weak and rubbery-feeling as he shakily lifted himself to his feet, leaning heavily against the wall as he unlatched the lock and almost fell on his face as he tumbled out. He landed heavily against the sink, grunting as his stomach harshly impacted with the porcelain and it was all he could do to stay upright.

As he struggled for some semblance of balance, he caught a glance at himself in the mirror, and his attention was caught, unable to tear his gaze away from the mirrored image. He looked tired…he looked forsaken…he looked abandoned…

_"I'm tired of you…I don't need you anymore…"_

A shrill, strangled cry tore from his throat, and his fist came crashing into the glass, shattering, splintering his reflection into a million broken pieces…so now the reflection was the same as the original, broken.

He shook and trembled violently, unable to hold it back as he roared with pure, unadulterated rage, and his world was engulfed in the dark, opaque emotions that threatened to steal his very life away.

And he was utterly the Black.


	38. Love

"I love you, Rin."

"Don't say things like that."

"Why?"

"Because it's dangerous…"

She rolled away from him, shrugging away his attempt to embrace her. He simply smiled sadly, settling his weight against a propped-up elbow, skimming his fingers lightly down the exposed expanse of her back, a delightful mix of creamy skin and smooth muscle beneath his fingertips. She shifted away from his touch and he slipped his arms around her waist to hold her fast, pulling her closer despite her protests.

Arms around her and legs entwined, he maneuvered until she resting lightly on top of him, causing him to frown as he felt the nearly weightless pressure against his torso. She was so slight, so delicate, that whenever he touched her he was afraid of breaking her, until the moments when she looked at him with a familiar fierceness in her eyes, kissed him with a voracious fire so solely and beautifully Rin that he was reminded that no matter how deceptive the outer shell, the strength within was astounding.

To see those awing qualities in a person, to feel that familiar wave of protectiveness despite her capability to take care of herself, to be in wonder of everything about her, mind, body and soul, to look at her and know she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, that was love, wasn't it?

So why couldn't she see it?

She had long given into the embrace, nestling her head against his shoulder, her hand absently running along his chest in stroking motions, its owner too deep in thought to notice. He caught the caressing hand, raised it to his lips, and pressed a soft kiss to the palm. She watched him without a word, eyes as dark and thick as ebony and just as unreadable.

"What is it you're afraid of, Rin? Akito or my loving you?"

Her lips thinned into a familiar line of stubborn defiance. "They're the same thing."

"No, they're not. We both know that…why don't you want to accept that I love you?"

Her eyes were bright as she turned away from him once more. "Because I don't deserve it!"

"Rin…" The tears in her eyes made his heart ache.

With a soft gasping breath, half-sob, she burrowed back against him, arms clinging to the solid reassurance of him. He held her close, kissed her forehead, cradled her body against his. "Don't say it," she said in a broken whisper, "Just don't say it again."

"Why not?"

 _It'll kill me to hear it again._ "Because I love you too."


	39. Lies

_"Haru, it's three in the morning! Where have you been?"_

_"I'm sorry, Mom. I got lost again."_

_"Isuzu, you didn't come home again last night! Mom was worried sick about you!"_

_"Get off my back, Kagura! It's none of your business."_

The lies we tell those you care for us.

_"It was just a fall, Haru. I'm fine now."_

_"I'm tired of you. I don't need you anymore."_

_"If you don't need me anymore, what use do I have for living?"_

The lies we tell each other.

_"It was me! I started it!"_

_"I don't care about Haru anymore."_

_"Haru and I have parted ways. He doesn't matter anymore."_

_"Get away from me! I don't want to see you anymore!"_

The lies we tell to protect.

_"I thought once…that just because I loved her, everything would be alright."_

_"I don't love him anymore. I never really did."_

_"I don't need her…I can't need her…"_

The lies we tell ourselves.

_"Someday we'll be free."_

_"Someday I'll be able to hold you through the night without a worry in the world."_

_"Someday…someday I'll watch you dance again. Not because you have to, but because you want to. Gods, will you be beautiful."_

The lies we tell to hope.


	40. Time

Time was their master.

Time caused them to change, to shift from childhood to young adulthood, for their bodies and hearts to mature and grow. Time made her abandon the image of him as a child to embrace the man he had become. Time allowed him to see her in a whole new light.

Time made them realize their attraction.

Time taught him to treasure her, to realize the meaning of the warm feeling that spread through him at the thought of her. Time lent her the mask of denial to hide away her growing attraction and affection for him. Time saw her barriers slowly cracking and falling away under a gentle but heavy assault of his candid nature. Time saw her tears falling in fear of what was to come. Time saw her accept his kiss with the strangest mixture of dread and thrill.

Time caused them to know the meaning of love.

Time allowed for the growing of feelings, awakening of passion and the darker haze of desire. Time had her knowing the feel of his hands against her skin, his arms around her body. Time had him knowing the euphoric sense of completion that came as their bodies entwined. Time had them hesitant and fumbling in their virginity but passionate in their love. Time created a single moment of pain to seem like eternity as his body levered over hers, stealing away her last innocence. Time allowed them to master the intricacies of lovemaking and the building of pleasure that came with the consummation. Time taught them the serenity of afterglow, to savor the other's embrace and warm presence.

Time taught them to be lovers.

Time allowed them the chances for stolen moments together. Time taught them the art of lies and deceit. Time rendered them too self-complacent, made them careless in the hiding of their affair. Time had her paying the price for their indulge in the forbidden. Time had her employing their learned skills of deception to turn away his attention and hide the truth in desperate attempts to protect him. Time saw her severing the ties between them, wounding him deeper than she ever intended, than she would ever know.

Time allowed their hearts to break.

Time saw her pressing onward in her hopeless quest to free them from the curse that bound them. Time saw her pain and bitterness growing to overwhelming levels, still refusing to surrender. Time saw the fine cracks in her façade slowly widening with each passing day and desperate encounter. Time suffered as their god took revenge once more, leaving her helpless to the assault. Time saw him brought reeling into realization, tearing away the veil of deception she had blinded over his eyes. Time taught him the consequences of selfish desires. Time saw the power of his rage and the gentle strength of his caring as he came to her side. Time taught her how to lean on the strength of another. Time taught her to fully love him.

Time saw their wounds slowly beginning to heal.


	41. Time

Time was their master.

Time caused them to change, to shift from childhood to young adulthood, for their bodies and hearts to mature and grow. Time made her abandon the image of him as a child to embrace the man he had become. Time allowed him to see her in a whole new light.

Time made them realize their attraction.

Time taught him to treasure her, to realize the meaning of the warm feeling that spread through him at the thought of her. Time lent her the mask of denial to hide away her growing attraction and affection for him. Time saw her barriers slowly cracking and falling away under a gentle but heavy assault of his candid nature. Time saw her tears falling in fear of what was to come. Time saw her accept his kiss with the strangest mixture of dread and thrill.

Time caused them to know the meaning of love.

Time allowed for the growing of feelings, awakening of passion and the darker haze of desire. Time had her knowing the feel of his hands against her skin, his arms around her body. Time had him knowing the euphoric sense of completion that came as their bodies entwined. Time had them hesitant and fumbling in their virginity but passionate in their love. Time created a single moment of pain to seem like eternity as his body levered over hers, stealing away her last innocence. Time allowed them to master the intricacies of lovemaking and the building of pleasure that came with the consummation. Time taught them the serenity of afterglow, to savor the other's embrace and warm presence.

Time taught them to be lovers.

Time allowed them the chances for stolen moments together. Time taught them the art of lies and deceit. Time rendered them too self-complacent, made them careless in the hiding of their affair. Time had her paying the price for their indulge in the forbidden. Time had her employing their learned skills of deception to turn away his attention and hide the truth in desperate attempts to protect him. Time saw her severing the ties between them, wounding him deeper than she ever intended, than she would ever know.

Time allowed their hearts to break.

Time saw her pressing onward in her hopeless quest to free them from the curse that bound them. Time saw her pain and bitterness growing to overwhelming levels, still refusing to surrender. Time saw the fine cracks in her façade slowly widening with each passing day and desperate encounter. Time suffered as their god took revenge once more, leaving her helpless to the assault. Time saw him brought reeling into realization, tearing away the veil of deception she had blinded over his eyes. Time taught him the consequences of selfish desires. Time saw the power of his rage and the gentle strength of his caring as he came to her side. Time taught her how to lean on the strength of another. Time taught her to fully love him.

Time saw their wounds slowly beginning to heal.


	42. Eye of the Storm

She had always been his solace.

Even if the entire world around them up and decided to lose all sense of order, all rhyme and reason, his center of stability would always be near her, to be able to hold her close, feel her warmth, and know that no matter how mad or insane their world became, she would always be his calm.

Their lives were like a storm at sea, the two of them helplessly tossed about by the uncaring and unyielding brutality of the waves. The waves that constantly crashed through their little world, the curse, their parents, Akito, never giving a moment's peace, never allowing for any rest in their struggle to maintain their own sanity.

To be forsaken by her own parents.

To be ignored and downtrodden by his.

They had no real childhood.

To be together meant the risk of sacrificing everything they had built up through the years of rejection, after finding solace in friendship, to take the final plunge into the storm for a chance not to have to love from a distance.

They took the risk.

They paid the price.

The storm came again, violence and rage in the form of Akito, taking her vengeance out on Rin, tearing the girl's world apart. The next step was not as brutal, but equally as painful. To protect Haru…

She shattered his heart, took away his only comfort in the chaos of the storm.

Finally together, they had their calm once more. For they could feel the storm building, the final storm, the culmination of everything they had done and waited for. All they could do was wait.

And in the eye of the storm, they held on to one another as their only anchor, their only calm, anticipating the coming of the next storm.


	43. Sanity

There were several points of time when they had come to question just how fragile one's sanity truly was.

When one was born a Sohma, the true fragility of one's mentality became painfully obvious. Even before their time, they watched their god deteriorate worse and worse every day in her descent into madness.

Even if Momiji, sweet, carefree Momiji's mother's rejection of her son been so painfully obvious at his birth, her slow loss of grasp on reality was. The same that had caused the father to ask the greatest sacrifice of his son.

After Hatori's injury, they had all helplessly watched his lover Kana fall apart, tittering dangerously between the lines of composure and hysteria, until Hatori knew that to save her, he had to let go of her forever.

Kyou's mother had been worst of all. The way she kept her son isolated and close despite her rejection of his curse, her smothering madness and eventual suicide had scarred her son deeper than he would ever allow anyone to understand.

Sanity among the Sohma was just a fleeting illusion.

In the aftermath of Akito's revenge and her own parting from Haru, Rin questioned her own sanity. How mad had she been to accept Haru's will to take the risk that could hurt them both by indulging in their relationship? Akito's looming threat to him caused her to question how sane she had been to give in to his naïve wants.

They both would pay the price for a single slip of sanity.

Months later, as Haru gazed down at her sleeping form only days after her rescue from the cat's prison, he too questioned his sanity. How could he have asked such a thing of her, to give in to him, to love with him at the risk of both their lives and safety?

Had he been just been selfish, or just stupid? More than a little mad, that was surely the case. Instead of him, she had been the one to pay for his stupidity, for his madness.

Love had a way of taking away all sense of reason and rendering one not quite sane.


	44. Melody

The sound of her voice would always reside in his recollections, but it would always be her song that haunted his memory.

He remembers a sunny afternoon spend with her by his side, lazily stretched out in the grass, his awareness dwindled to a dull, fuzzy fog that came with the warmth soaking into him from the sunlight streaming down, and the slender fingers running idly through his hair. The caress, and her low, melodious hum lulled him into a drowsy state, and his lips stretched into a lazy smile, shifting his head from her lap to look up at her.

"I recognize that from somewhere."

She nodded, her fingers moving downward to trace the contour of his cheekbone, tickling the tufts of fine hair at his ear. "I thought you would."

"Where's it from?"

"Hmm…from when we were kids, remember?"

"Mmm, yeah." With a slight smile at the memory, he stretched backward, the languid motion resembling the arching back of a feline. "You used to sing it for me all the time." He blinked at her, his eyes inquisitive. "Come to think of it, why'd you stop?"

"That was a long time ago, Haru. It's embarrassing now."

"Why? I always thought your voice was beautiful." He rolled over onto his stomach and caught her hand in his, raising it to his lips. "Will you sing for me again? Please."

She began with a soft hum, gradually climbing upward through the octaves as the song became to ascend in complexity, and each note rang through beautiful and clear as the chiming of bells. The melody was familiar, wrapping around him like a warm embrace he had always longed for, tangible in the air around him, something as wanted and welcomed as his lover's touch.

Her voice mesmerized him, and in the warmth and quiet solitude of the summer day, he lost himself in her song.


	45. Valentine's

His reaction was not what she had expected.

When she offered him the prettily wrapped box of homemade chocolates, complete with the ribbons she had painstakingly learned to curl just for his gift, he only stared up at her in confusing, blinking wide gray eyes full of incomprehension.

"What are those for?" he asked, the question so full of genuine bewilderment that it took an extreme effort not to roll her eyes.

"They're for you, silly."

"Why?"

She sighed. She really couldn't blame him though. He was only nine after all, and she was a very smart and much more mature eleven. "They're for Valentine's Day."

"What's Valentine's?"

Did the boy live under a rock? "Valentine's Day! It's a day where you give away gifts."

"Oh. But I don't have anything for you."

"You don't have to! It's for the girls to give to the boys."

He frowned, an expression that more resembled a pout in his youthful face. "So I don't get you anything?"

"Nuh-uh. Not yet. And only if you want to. Ask you Mom about White Day."

"Okay." Cautiously, he poked at the box of treats, hesitantly sliding the lid open. He smiled as his nostrils filled with the sweet scent. "Yum. These smell good, Rin-chan."

"I hope you like them."

"Thank you, Rin-chan."

She smiled warmly, watching as he took a bite and chewed, his eyes widening with pleasure. "These are really good."

"I'm glad." After a moment's hesitation, she leaned in and pressed a light kiss against his cheek. "Happy Valentine's, Haru-kun."

She left him staring at her dumbfounded, his mouth half-full of forgotten chocolate.


End file.
